


How Jaskier F*cked His Way Across the Continent and into Geralt's Heart

by bleuvelvet



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Barely there jealousy, Denial, Episode Fix-It: s01e06 Rare Species, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of Canon-Typical Sex Work, Okay its more like Geralt finally gets a clue than denial, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25480087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleuvelvet/pseuds/bleuvelvet
Summary: In which Jaskier sleeps with a bunch of different people and Geralt very carefully doesn't think about why it bothers him.Excerpt:He keeps thinking about it.  He can't get it out of his head and it's driving him crazy as to why.Maybe it's because, before that day, he'd no idea Jaskier was interested in men.  They'd been traveling together, on and off, for the better part of three years. In all that time, he's only ever seen Jaskier court women.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Other(s), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 454





	How Jaskier F*cked His Way Across the Continent and into Geralt's Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Thin fingers, wrapped around your heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22159492) by [lehnsherry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lehnsherry/pseuds/lehnsherry). 



> After reading lehnsherry's 'Thin fingers, wrapped around your heart' a while back (which is amazing and if you haven't read it, you really should), I had this idea bouncing around in my head, but could never find a proper start to it. The idea of Jaskier living and being his best self (but without the obvious Geralt stand-ins) until Geralt finally gets a clue appealed to me.
> 
> Hopefully, this fic isn't too similar though some specific kinks have made their way in here because, hey, I like what I like. There was a reason I loved lehnsherry's fic.
> 
> Some of you may recognize some game elements in this fic as well as ones from the show.
> 
> Also, this ended up having way less of Jaskier sleeping with other people than I thought it would.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

He walks in on them mid-thrust. He pauses in the open doorway for a moment, realizes what he has walked in on, and backs out the way he had come in, quietly closing the door behind him.

"Did you hear something?" He hears Jaskier quietly pant.

"No," a deeper voice answers him.

The sound of skin slapping against skin and quiet groans follow him back down the stairs. It seems like he isn't getting a bath anytime soon. 

He goes up to the bar and orders an ale. Time for a drink or ten. Maybe by the time Jaskier is finished he'll have gotten the taste of what he'd just witnessed out of his eyeballs.

Geralt is on drink number five when the man that had been ploughing the bard so vigorously from behind swaggers down the stairs. He drinks ale five in quick sips as he watches the man order a beer, down it, and then leave.

Jaskier makes his way down the stairs two drinks later. Geralt watches as he lazily orders a cherry cordial and some dinner, then winds his way over to the dark corner the Witcher has sat himself in for the past two hours. He eyes the pitcher the barkeep had left him after drink number four, citing his girls had better things to do than keep a Witcher in his cups.

Geralt appreciates the expedience of it. He'd been able to get through ales five, six, and seven much faster. Still, nothing really prepares him for the scent of satisfaction and male release that wafts off of Jaskier as the bard sits across from him.

"So, uh, when did you get back," Jaskier asks with semi-forced casualness.

Geralt takes a deep, fortifying drink. "A little over two hours ago."

Jaskier drums the tips of his fingers against the tin of his cup. "I see."

"Hm."

There is a deep silence between the two men before Jaskier breaks it again. "Is there- do you-" he stutters before taking a deep breath. "Do you have a problem with it?"

And the thing is, Geralt doesn't. And he doesn't know why seeing Jaskier being energetically fucked from behind has unsettled him so. Maybe it's just from having seen Jaskier in the middle of sex that has thrown him, like catching your parents at it when you're the youngest child and can pretend they stopped at your conception. Geralt internally shudders at the thought of Vesemir tirelessly pumping away and decides that must be it.

"No," he answers simply.

Jaskier breathes out a long sigh. "Okay."

Geralt nods and takes another drink from his cup.

*

He keeps thinking about it. He can't get it out of his head and it's driving him crazy as to why.

Maybe it's because, before that day, he'd no idea Jaskier was interested in men. They'd been traveling together, on and off, for the better part of three years. In all that time, he's only ever seen Jaskier court women.

He knows some countries disapprove of that sort of thing. Redania, where Jaskier has said he is from, is one of them. Though, they are more in the 'shameful secret' area than the 'put to death' one. Still, folk tend to like getting upset at things that don't concern them while turning a blind eye to the things that should.

But, Geralt isn't one of those people. He's enjoyed the company of men before, though the last time he'd done so is long past and he's only been with women since he started venturing out on his own from Kaer Morhen.

Perhaps that is why Jaskier hadn't said anything before.

Whatever the reason, it seems that now that Geralt knows, and has reassured the bard it doesn't matter to him, Jaskier has taken that as carte blanche to flirt with every eligible- and ineligible- man or woman he comes across.

Or maybe now that he knows to look for it, he sees the way Jaskier will run his gaze appreciatively over strong forearms and broad chests just as often as he does a round bosom and slender shoulders. The bard is never ashamed in his appraisal of man or woman, as far as Geralt can tell, and he wonders how he's missed it for so long. There is nothing subtle in the appreciation those blue eyes give to the strangers he meets.

So, he _keeps thinking about it_. He thinks about how Jaskier looked underneath that unknown man. How breathless he'd sounded as he gasped and groaned before Geralt had been far enough away to block out the noise.

It keeps repeating over and over in his head and he doesn't know how to make it stop.

*

That isn't the last time Geralt catches Jaskier in flagrante delicto. Hell, it wasn't even the first time he had seen the bard naked with another person.

The next time- after the man at the inn in their shared room- is less than ten minutes after he leaves Yennefer in a pile of rubble to go find the bard that he'd left outside. Whatever strange force that had urged him to forget all else and couple with her in the ruin of the mayor's house had left him almost as soon as his orgasm had.

He finds the bard by sound, first, as he usually does. Off to the side of the road, past some brush, he hears some muffled humming. He can recognize Jaskier’s voice anywhere, so he follows the sounds until it becomes clear and then he sees him. On his knees. In front of a man- well, Elf actually.

Jaskier is on his knees in front of the Elf healer, Chireadan, sucking on his cock with fervor and humming one of his songs with great, though muffled, gusto. The Elf has his long fingers tangled in the bard’s hair and his head is resting on the trunk of the tree behind him. Geralt does not know whether to be impressed or dismayed at the bard’s skill and impudence.

By the look on the Elf’s face, he should probably go with impressed.

He must make some sort of noise when he goes to back away, at least enough for the Elf to hear him, because Chireadan looks up and catches his gaze almost instantly. For a moment, their gazes are locked before the Elf looks away, down at the bard on his knees, and then moves a hand to the back of Jaskier’s head and holds him still as he begins to fuck the bard’s mouth.

Jaskier seems to take it in stride; angling himself better to let the Elf go deeper.

Geralt continues to back away until he’s out of sight before turning and heading back towards the manor house. He’d left Roach back at the stables when he went to look for Jaskier.

*

He doesn’t see the bard again for over a year once they part ways after the djinn incident. This time, they’re in Novigrad. Generally, Geralt tries to avoid cities, but the Hierarch is offering quite a reward to free the city’s sewers of whatever monster is dragging people down into them and draining their blood. Geralt is fairly certain it’s a katakan, a particularly vicious one as most only drink a little blood here and there and leave their victims mostly unharmed.

He’s only just entered the city when he hears the strings of a lute coming from the Rosemary and Thyme. He’d know the sound of that particular lute anywhere. Filavandrel’s gift has been put to good use by the bard and has a distinctive quality that he’s never heard from any human-made instrument.

Geralt follows the sound into the brothel. After speaking with the Madame- and handing over a few coins- he finds that Jaskier is in a room on the second level. He reasons that since he can hear the lute, Jaskier has already finished his business for the day or has yet to start. It could really go either way, which is why he doesn’t bother knocking and just opens the door.

He really should have knocked.

The door opens on a rather interesting tableau. The bard is reclined back on the bed, lute cradled in his hands, playing chords that sound like a half-remembered song. He is also completely naked. As is the woman who is riding him. She’s murmuring to the bard, almost like she’s putting words to the song.

They both stop to look at the door when they hear it open.

Geralt stands in the open doorway frozen. “I-” He swallows. He’s not really sure what to say. “The Madame said you weren’t busy.” He reaches for the door, ready to pull it closed.

“Stay,” says the woman on top of Jaskier.

The bard bolts upright, muscles in his abdomen flexing as he sets his lute aside and gives the woman a gentle smack on the thigh. “Tilda!” He glances over to Geralt quickly. “You can’t just invite others into our play time. Besides, I think you’ve nearly given the poor Witcher a heart attack.”

The woman turns her grey gaze back to Jaskier. “I do believe this is Mistress Klein’s unsubtle way of telling us your time is up, bard.” She curls a lock of her dark hair around her finger.

Jaskier looks down mournfully to where they are joined and pouts. “Can’t we finish first?”

She smiles coyly at him. “Do you have another fifty crowns?”

The bard hesitates. “Er...I can write you a song?” He holds up his lute as if to back up the validity of his claim.

Tilda’s smile lessens, though it does not completely disappear. “While I’m sure it would be a lovely song, I’m afraid Mistress Klein only deals in hard coin.” She makes as if to move off the bard and it is then that Geralt realizes he’s been standing in the open doorway staring at his naked friend for far too long to be considered innocent.

He slams the door behind himself and decides he’ll hunt for the katakan now, even though it is still light out and katakans can’t tolerate the sun. By the time he makes his way out of the front door, he’s calmed down enough to be decent in public again.

*

Jaskier catches up with him at the Golden Sturgeon the next day. He slides onto the bench across from Geralt. “So, what brings you to the city,” the bard asks as if he and Geralt didn’t see each other yesterday when he barged in on the man fucking a prostitute while playing his lute. Literally.

“Katakan,” Geralt answers instead of asking any one of the seven questions that have floated through his head since the incident the day before, one of which being how difficult was it play an instrument and fuck at the same time? It seemed like something that would take decent skill and a rather good ability to multitask.

“Oh?” Jaskier says interestedly. “I don’t think I’ve been with you while hunting one of those. Have you found it yet?”

Geralt nods. “I’ve narrowed down the section of sewer it lives in. I mean to drive it out today.”

Jaskier leans forward over the table, almost into Geralt’s space. He smells of marjoram and chamomile, a pleasant and calming scent. Geralt nearly closes his eyes to savor it better. “Can I go with you?”

“Sure,” Geralt answers, distractedly. There’s something musky under the marjoram. He wants to know what it is.

“Excellent!” Jaskier leans back out of his space. “When do we leave?”

Geralt blinks, suddenly aware that Jaskier has been talking while he was trying to scent him from afar. “What?”

Jaskier taps two of his elegant fingers against the table top. “Geralt! Pay attention!” The Witcher focuses in on the bard’s mouth, which has curled up into a rather sly-looking smile. “The katakan? When are we going after it?”

“There is no ‘we’.”

“What? But you just said I could go,” Jaskier pouts.

Shit. He had said that, hadn’t he? Well, no matter. He might actually be able to use Jaskier’s help with this one anyway. The katakan seems to have developed a taste for the blood of alcohol-intoxicated people. It would be far easier- and cheaper- to get Jaskier drunk than it would be for Geralt to do it all himself.

Luckily, they’re already in a tavern. “Let’s have a few drinks first,” he says, signaling the barkeeper for another round. The smile Jaskier sends him is so bright and ebullient that Geralt almost feels guilty for what he’s about to do. Then he remembers the day Jaskier promised him a good time at a feast and he’d ended up with a Child Surprise instead and he doesn’t feel so bad.

*

Okay, so maybe he should have warned Jaskier about what his plan had been going in. He should have probably also let the bard know that katakans can appear human and speak inside your head.

But, it turned out alright in the end with the worst injury being to Jaskier’s blue and lavender doublet. The katakan’s long claws had torn through the material like paper, though Geralt had pulled Jaskier back fast enough to avoid an injury no more serious than thin, red scratches down the bard’s torso.

And yet, still Jaskier carried on about it all the way back to his room at the inn. “That doublet was new! Specially made for me by the best tailor in the city!” He gestures excitedly and Geralt has to steady him before he tilts himself off the chair he’s seated in by the small table in the room. He leans in to dab at the scratches on the lean torso in front of him.

Jaskier is still talking excitedly. “It was from the latest in fashion at the courts of Aedirn. The cut, the colors, there was none equal to it. It complemented my skin tone so well,” he cried.

“Looks better off of you,” Geralt mumbled distractedly as he dabbed more salve on a cut. Really, the scratches would heal in a few days even without the tincture, but it made Jaskier feel better. And to be honest, who knew what had been on that katakan’s claws, so better safe than sorry.

Suddenly, Geralt realizes it’s been quiet for some time. He looks up to Jaskier staring at him, open-mouthed. He rewinds the last few moments in his head to the last thing the bard had said and his reply and realizes what he just implied to his self-proclaimed best friend.

Geralt scrambles for something, anything to say. “That doublet was an eyesore to all that had to look upon it.” He bent his head back to his task. “It’s a boon to humanity that the katakan destroyed it.”

There’s another moment of silence before Jaskier seems to shake himself back into awareness. “Right, yeah. Maybe.” He’s quiet for the rest of the night. So is Geralt, but that’s hardly unusual.

*  
  
Geralt realizes he’s made a stupid mistake precisely seventeen seconds after the bard turns and leaves.

He still doesn’t go after him.

*

He’s got Ciri with him and they’re on their way to Kaer Morhen when he catches a whiff of marjoram and chamomile from the open door of the tavern they pass. It’s been nearly four years since he’s smelled that particular combination of scents and his heart _seizes_. Gently, he takes hold of Ciri’s shoulder and guides her into the dim building. He hadn’t planned on stopping, but well...sometimes plans change.

It’s still early autumn and they’ve been making good time to the keep. They’re already in Kaedwen, only about a two week’s ride to the beginning of the trail that will lead them to one of the last Witcher strongholds.

He doesn’t see the bard in the main room and goes to the man at the bar to inquire about rooms. He tells Geralt he’s got one left, if he’s interested. Geralt is. He gets a key and also orders them an early dinner. He leaves Ciri in the common room of the tavern and takes their things up to their room.

He’s on his way back down when he hears it. There’s a steady, rhythmic thump that sounds very much like a headboard being rammed repeatedly into a wall. And then he hears the moan. It’s Jaskier’s moan. He’d know that low, drawn-out note anywhere.

And then he contemplates how strange it is that he’s never had sex with the man himself, but he knows how Jaskier sounds when he’s being fucked. He knows what he _looks_ like when he’s deep in pleasure and knows nothing else. He knows all of this, but he’s never had it for himself.

His fist slams into the wall cracking the wood and garnering splinters for his efforts. The noises in the room pause and there are quiet murmurs before the gentle rocking starts again.

Geralt walks down the stairs to his Child Surprise and resolves to not make an ass of himself by the time Jaskier wanders down the stairs smelling of another man’s spend.

The bard looks absolutely astonished to see him. Then he notices the girl next to him and in his eyes alights understanding. Always rather quick on the uptake, his bard.

Geralt nods to the seat next to him, inviting the bard over to him. He watches as Jaskier fiddles with the strap on his lute case before biting his bottom lip and heading over.

“Fancy meeting you here,” the bard says by way of greeting.

“Jaskier,” Geralt murmurs. He gestures to the girl beside him. “This is Fiona.”

The smile that takes over Jaskier’s face is soft and beautiful. “Nice to meet you, Fiona.” He slides into the seat opposite them, setting his lute down beside him. “I knew your parents. Briefly. I’m sorry for your loss.” Geralt can see the sincerity in Jaskier’s expression and how he’s addressing far more than just the loss of Ciri’s parents, lost at sea before the girl could even remember them. Jaskier is speaking of her far more recent and traumatic trials.

“Thank you,” Ciri whispers, eyes shining with tears.

Jaskier looks back to Geralt. “What are you doing so far north? Isn’t it a little early in the year to be going home?”

Geralt appreciates the discretion. Witcher Schools and where they are based aren’t common knowledge anymore, and the fewer references made to the Blue Mountains being home to the School of the Wolf, the better. In answer to the bard’s question, he merely tips his head to the blonde girl next to him.

“Ah, I see.” He taps a rhythm out on the tabletop.

They sit in silence until a serving girl brings food for the Witcher and Ciri. She looks in askance at the bard and Jaskier orders himself a plate of the same and asks who to speak to about playing for some coin tonight. The girl looks delighted at the prospect at music and tells the bard she’ll speak to her father about comping his meal in exchange for a performance.

Jaskier fawns over her, complimenting her outrageously and making her giggle. Geralt clenches his hand into a fist under the table and is viciously reminded that he still has a few splinters stuck in his knuckles. Carefully, keeping his expression as neutral as possible, he picks them out. The cuts will have healed over by morning.

They have a rather pleasant dinner together and afterwards, Jaskier sings to the early dinner crowd. He’s well-received and garners request after request. Someone notices Geralt is there and pays for Jaskier to sing ‘Toss A Coin’ in honor of his presence. As the night progresses, people start asking more for ballads and love songs.

Eventually, someone requests a song called ‘Her Sweet Kiss’ and for the barest moment, Jaskier freezes before smiling and strumming. Someone pulls out a wooden flute from somewhere and accompanies him. When Jaskier starts singing he carefully does not look towards the table Geralt is seated at with his child and it’s Geralt’s turn to do his best impersonation of a statue.

He knows this song. He remembers this song. This was the song Jaskier had been working on that fateful day when they’d met Borch. It is the song Jaskier had been working on all the way up that cursed mountain. It’s a little different now, less bittersweet and just more bitter overall.

And that is when Geralt _knows_. He knows exactly who this song is about and who it was written for. He keeps his gaze steady on the bard during the entire rendition. By the time the bard calls it a night, he knows what he must do.

He catches Jaskier before he can head up the stairs to his room, hand gentle at his elbow. “Can I ask you something?”

Jaskier smiles at him, a little sad, but still genuine. Geralt nearly isn’t able to draw his next breath at the cresting of emotions that tumble over him in that moment. “I think you just did, but go ahead and ask another.”

Geralt glares at him. Just a bit. Why does he think he’s in love with this little shit again? The bard laughs at his expression and Geralt’s own countenance softens as well. Ah, yes. Quite right. “Will you come with me?”

“Go with you? Where?” He’s fiddling with the lute strap again.

“To see my home.” He hesitates before adding. “I want you to see it.”

The bard’s mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He clears his throat and tries again. “Geralt, I’m not sure-”

“Please,” Geralt interrupts him, desperately.

Something in Jaskier's expression softens, though he still doesn't smile. "Alright. I'll go with you." 

Geralt slides his hand down from the bard's elbow to his hand, giving it a brief squeeze before letting go. "Thank you."

*

Geralt has a plan. Like everything else in Geralt's life, almost nothing goes as he wants it to.

It starts out alright. They travel through Kaedwen, stopping in towns to spend the night at an inn when they can. It's like the start of a joke every time; a Witcher, a bard, and a fallen princess walk into a bar except no one knows the princess is a princess and the Witcher is hopelessly in love with the bard. And he's fairly certain the bard reciprocates.

Which leads Geralt back to his plan. Travel through Kaedwen, get to Kaer Morhen, and finally tell Jaskier his feelings. And hope the bard actually does reciprocate.

Along the way, he apologizes for the things he said on the mountain. He sends Ciri to bed and bids Jaskier to have a drink with him. They'd been traveling together for just over a week and this is the first half-decent inn they've come across where Geralt feels safe enough to leave Ciri in the room by herself.

They talk about the contract Geralt has taken for this town, and what songs Jaskier thinks he should sing, and how far Kaer Morhen is from the last village they'll come to before starting up the mountain.

Eventually, Geralt blurts out an "I'm sorry" and Jaskier looks so surprised that it tugs at something in Geralt's heart and he resolves to do better by the bard from here on out.

Conversation is easier after that. Jaskier starts chattering away about everything and nothing. He makes Ciri laugh with jokes and court impressions. Geralt wonders how he ever lived without any of this before. Maybe he wasn't. Maybe he has simply been waiting for his life to properly start.

It's after they get to the keep that Geralt's plan falls apart. 

First, Vesemir is there to greet them, which isn't surprising. The old man basically lives there full-time and only ventures into the valley below to check on the village at the base of the mountain several times a year when he goes for supplies. Rarely does he accept any contracts that take him further than a few day's ride from the keep.

What throws a wrench into Geralt's plan is that Vesemir immediately puts him to work on repairs, keeping him out from sun up to sun down and sometimes even longer. And of course, the princess and the bard must earn their keep as well, so Vesemir has them cleaning out rooms for use and cataloguing and transcribing old books in the library. Both Cirilla and Jaskier have beautiful handwriting, Geralt thinks when Ciri proudly shows him her work. 

So, between all the repairs, cleaning, training Ciri, and other work Vesemir finds, Geralt is having a rather difficult time finding a moment alone with the bard.

It's a bit of a relief when Lambert shows up a week after they do. He's grumpy and an asshole, as usual, but it's good to see his brother.

Lambert teases him about his child and his bard at dinner that night. "If I'd known we were allowed to bring pets I'd have brought one of my own." 

"You _are_ the pet," Geralt returns easily, leaning back in his chair, one arm propped over the back of Jaskier's. "The mangy one we all feel sorry for and can't get rid of."

"Fuck you." Lambert throws a piece of his bread at Geralt, who catches it and goes to put it in his mouth before Jaskier catches his hand to stop him.

"Better not, Geralt," he says. "You've no idea where he's been. Might contract something, even with all that Witcher resistance to disease." He takes the piece of bread from Geralt and flicks it back at Lambert, hitting him in the chin.

There's a short, stunned silence before Vesemir starts laughing. After a moment, Lambert grins at the bard and leans across the table towards him. Geralt feels himself tense, just slightly. That grin has never meant anything good.

"I'd be happy to prove to you my good health, if you'd like."

A low rumble starts in his chest, too low for human ears, but Lambert's amused glance towards him shows that he doesn't miss it. His grin widens. Little shit.

Jaskier sniffs imperiously at the suggestion. "No, thank you. I'd rather not take the chance."

There's another round of laughter at Lambert's expense, but he takes it well, sitting back into his seat.

Dinner ends soon after that and Geralt escorts a sleepy Ciri up to her room. He bids her goodnight and closes her door softly.

Lambert is leaning on the wall outside the door, arms crossed over his chest. "You planning to tell him how you feel any time soon?" Lambert never was one to beat around the bush.

"I've been trying," he growls. "To find the right time."

The other Witcher raises an eyebrow at him. "And how's that been workin' out for ya?"

"Hm."

"Thought so." He pushes himself off the wall and follows Geralt back down the stairs. "I like the guy, so I'll do you a favor."

It's Geralt's turn to lift a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh? What an honor."

"Mhm." They reach the landing and turn for the great room where the adults have been gathering at night for drinks and past times. Usually, Geralt and Vesemir read while Jaskier works on new songs, but sometimes they'll just sit and swap amusing stories. "I'll train Ciri tomorrow. Unteach her some of your bad habits."

"Ah, now the real reason for your sudden altruism becomes clear. You want to corrupt my Child Surprise with your brand of wit."

Lambert shrugs. "Nothing's free in this world."

They reach the doors to the great room, and Lambert puts his hand on Geralt's shoulder, stalling him from entering. "Seriously, you should tell him. Soon."

"Something you know that I don't?"

The other Witcher shakes his head. "Nope. Just...there's little enough that's good and positive about our lot on the Path. You should take what you can when you find some." With that, he pushes past Geralt and into the room where Jaskier is playing an old song and Vesemir is listening to him with his eyes closed. 

Lambert ruins the warm moment with a crack about boring songs for boring people and Jaskier squawks in protest, though the amusement shining in his eyes belies his ire.

The feeling of warmth comes rushing back and Geralt resolves to speak with Jaskier on the morrow.

*

The next day is bitterly cold and Geralt feels like the first snow might be early this year. He's finishing his last repair on the roof of the Eastern tower and contemplating lunch when he sees a figure ride up to the gate.

Eskel, he thinks, must have felt the same.

He goes down to greet his brother. There's a general shuffling of people and goods as everyone is introduced to each other and they carry in the supplies Eskel has brought with him.

Once everything is put away, they sit down to eat and catch up. When everyone has finished eating, Lambert is quick to gather plates and cups, which garners him amused looks from Eskel and Vesemir as Lambert generally hates doing the washing up after meals. He shoots a pointed glance at Geralt, then to the bard, and the looks go from amused to understanding. Eskel helps Lambert clean up and Vesemir escorts Ciri to the training grounds telling her he should check her progress in case Geralt has taught her any of his bad habits.

Geralt glares after his teacher while Lambert howls with laughter in the kitchen.

Soon, its just him and Jaskier at the table and the bard is already standing and excusing himself back to his copy-writing.

"Jaskier, can we talk?"

"Talk? About what?"

Geralt shakes his head and stands. "Not here. Let's go to my room." Far away from prying ears, he doesn't add.

Jaskier follows him up the tower steps to the highest room. He gestures for the bard to sit in one of the armchairs by the fire while he takes the other.

And his mind blanks.

He's built this moment up in his head over and over. He has gone over everything he wants to say and how he wants to say it. And now that the moment is here, he's at a loss.

"Geralt?" He looks up as Jaskier calls his name, voice soft and questioning. "Is everything alright?"

He meets the bard's eyes and he realizes that he doesn't need any grand declarations or gestures for this. What he sees reflected in Jaskier's blue eyes is everything he has ever felt for the bard returned, easily and unconditionally.

"I love you," he says, simple and sure.

Jaskier blinks at him. "I'm sorry, I think I just suffered from a momentary hallucination. What did you just say?"

"I love you," he says again. He'll repeat it a thousand times, if Jaskier needs him to. Though, eventually, he'd like to move on to _showing_ him.

"You love me?"

"Hm."

"...As a friend?"

Geralt rolls his eyes, figures he's tried words, stands, cups the bard's chin between thumb and fingers to tip his head back, and leans down to kiss him. It's a decidedly imperfect kiss. The angle is terrible and Jaskier clearly wasn't expecting it so his mouth is slightly open and rigid.

Then it all seems to catch up to him at once because he throws his arms around Geralt's shoulders and sticks his tongue in his mouth. This is somewhat better, though the angle is still crap.

Geralt decides to fix this by pulling the bard to stand and wrapping his arms around his waist, holding him close.

 _Much better_ , he thinks as he sinks into the plush warmth of Jaskier's mouth. After a few moments, Geralt realizes Jaskier is trying to pull away and reluctantly lets him go. Thankfully, the bard does not go far.

"Just so we're on the same page, I love you, too."

"I know."

Jaskier looks aghast. "You do? How?"

"That song," he replies as he starts walking Jaskier back towards the bed.

He goes easily. "What son- oh."

"Mhm." Geralt finds himself distracted by the smooth expanse of Jaskier's neck.

"I guess it was a little obvious," he says with a gasp, burying his fingers into Geralt's hair.

Geralt nips at the bard's throat in approval. "Just a little." He pushes Jaskier back onto the bed. "Now, unless you have any objections, less talking and more taking clothes off."

Jaskier sits up and starts yanking at his doublet. "Not sure about the talking part- have you met me?- but I'm an expert at taking off my clothes."

"I'm aware," Geralt says, dryly.

The bard flings his doublet to the floor and pulls his chemise out of his pants. "Ah, yes, I suppose you have caught me in some...unfortunate positions."

"Didn't seem unfortunate to me." Geralt starts yanking at his own clothes, tugging off his boots and shirt in short order. 

"No?" Jaskier is trying to wiggle out of his pants now, but gets them stuck part way down his thighs. Geralt helps him slip off his boots and hose before tugging the trousers off of the bard and leaving him in only his smallclothes.

He pulls off his own breeches before climbing on top of the bard. He's already half hard from watching Jaskier disrobe. "No. Kept imagining myself in their place. Wanted to know what you felt like." He runs a hand down the bard's bare torso. "What you taste like." He captures a nipple in his mouth and sucks it gently. He releases it to murmur into Jaskier's ear. "I wanted to make you moan for me."

"Oh, fuck, Geralt." The other man moans, loud and wanton. His hands feel their way up Geralt's back until they tangle in his hair again. "Can I tell you a secret?" He nips at the top of Geralt's ear. "I'd imagine it being you, sometimes."

That makes the Witcher let out a moan of his own from where he'd been sucking a bruise into the side of the bard's neck. "I wanted you to be mine. I want to be the only one that brings you such pleasure."

"I want it to be you, too." Jaskier gasps, pulling Geralt closer to him.

A thrill of possessiveness runs down Geralt's spine as he realizes that he can have this. He can have Jaskier; does have him, in fact. It makes him growl contentedly and he begins to suck another mark on his bard's collarbone.

Things progress rather quickly from there. Geralt feels like he's been on the edge of wanting Jaskier for _years_ and now he finally gets to have him. Rough hands roam over soft, pale skin and his mouth follows with teasing kisses, stopping wherever it catches his fancy to suck another mark onto his bard.

In turn, Jaskier's hands flutter all over him, like he can't decide where to touch first and so tries to touch him all at once. Shoulders, back, hips; his hands reach wherever they can.

After he's gotten down far enough to suck a bruise onto Jaskier's hip, he teasingly edges his fingers under the bard's braies, caressing the dark curls that peak out from the waist of his pants. Jaskier releases Geralt's hair to help him push them off over his hips.

Geralt sits back on his knees to study the bard. He's pale, though not unhealthily so, with a good covering of hair that winds its way across his chest, thins for a bit, then picks up again under his navel and curls around the base of his cock. He wants to lick it. All of it.

He starts with taking the head of Jaskier's cock into his mouth and sucking gently. He swipes a tongue over the slit to taste the wetness that pearls there. After a moment, he eases his mouth off Jaskier, to the bard's apparent displeasure, and noses his way into the thick curls surrounding it, inhaling deeply. He savors the dark, musky scent of Jaskier's arousal before encouraging him to spread his legs wider and trailing his lips down further past his balls.

"Uh, Geralt? Are you doing what I think you're-oh Holy Mother Melitele and all the rest!" The fingers that had found their way back into his hair tighten as Jaskier gasps. Geralt smirks and readjusts his grip, angling the bard's hips higher.

"Just me," he says before diving back in. He licks a trail over the tight furl before delving in gently, licking and sucking in turns.

Jaskier gasps at the intrusion. "Of course now is the time you find your sense of humor," he mutters, sounding desperate.

Geralt's hums and concentrates on his task, focusing on how the scent and taste of Jaskier, sweet marjoram and musk, surrounds him. He savors the unique combination of smells, recognizing them as purely Jaskier and smelling so good just for _him._ The bard wiggles and gasps as Geralt works his tongue deeper, making him wetter and looser.

Eventually, once Jaskier is practically dripping from having his mouth on him, Geralt pulls away. The bard whines at the loss, but seems happy enough when Geralt covers his mouth with his own, claiming him with tongue and teeth.

Gently, Geralt runs his hands down Jaskier's body before grasping his erection loosely. He pumps it slowly, a barely there sensation that has his bard whining beautifully. He can practically taste Jaskier's desperation. Jaskier is leaking precome rather copiously and Geralt gathers it on his fingertips to help ease the slide of his hand on the bard's prick.

"Please, Geralt," Jaskier begs sweetly. "Please make me come. I want to come."

The plea makes Geralt groan, hips jerking reflexively, desperate for friction. "Shh, don't worry. I'll take care of you." He drags his lips down the bard's bared throat, tasting the salt of his skin and sweat. "I'm going to make you come," he murmurs against Jaskier's ear. "Just like this, first. Then I'm going to get you hard again, and once you're ready, I'm going to fuck you."

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" Jaskier's eyes are wide with lust. "I want it!"

Geralt firms his grip around Jaskier's prick and starts pumping in earnest. It only takes a few moments before the bard is coming all over himself in thick, ropey strings.

He releases his hold on Jaskier and gives him a few moments to catch his breath, stroking his sides and face. Once the bard has come down enough to focus on Geralt, he kisses him sweetly before pulling back to ask, "good?"

"Mm, gods, yes." He blinks innocently up at Geralt, who isn't fooled for a second. "I believe you promised me another?"

Geralt grins at him. "So I did." He kisses the bard again, just because. "Let me get the oil." He rolls off the bed to dig into the chest where he keeps miscellaneous sundries, including a bottle of neutral carrier oil. He turns around with prize in hand and can't help but groan at the sight before him.

Jaskier is on his back running his hands over his own body, teasing his nipples and then trailing one hand lower, past his prick, to his hole that is still wet from Geralt's spit.

Geralt strides over to the bed and all but throws himself back over the bard's body, kissing him soundly. He gets lost there for a few minutes, indulging in the sensation of Jaskier's mouth against his. It's not too long, however, before his neglected erection starts making its frustration known.

He opens the bottle of oil and spills a generous amount into his hand, coating his fingers liberally. He stoppers the bottle back up and tosses it up by the pillow. Slowly, he trails a wet fingertip down over Jaskier's partially renewed erection, under his balls, and over the hidden furl. "Spread your legs wider," he murmurs, leaning back a bit so he can see what he is doing.

Jaskier complies with rather flattering alacrity, grinning up at Geralt with such unfettered trust and love that it nearly steals Geralt's breath away. "Whenever you're ready, Witcher."

Gently, and slowly-oh so slowly- Geralt presses one finger in, watching avidly as it disappears into Jaskier's warm, tight body. "Fuck." He didn't think it was possible for him to get any harder, but Jaskier always has liked proving him wrong.

"That is the general idea," the bard underneath him pants.

Geralt declines to comment on the grounds that he is concentrating too hard on not coming from just fingering his bard. After several thrusts, and Jaskier telling him to get on with it, he adds a second finger.

He spends a few moments scissoring them in and out before pushing them in as deep as he can and feeling around for that spot inside Jaskier's body that will make him see stars. He knows he's found it when Jaskier gasps and clenches around him, bearing down on his fingers. He prods at it ruthlessly, making the bard shiver and moan with pleasure.

Eventually, he eases back off the spot to add a third finger. He repeats the same process as he did with just the two; thrusting in and out, spreading them wide each time until Jaskier is loose and pliant.

The scent of the bard's arousal is thick in the air and heady enough that Geralt thinks he could get drunk off of it. He's so focused on his task, so consumed by the scent and feel of Jaskier that he doesn't realize the bard is speaking to him until he prods him with a foot.

" Geralt, I'm ready."

The Witcher looks up at him, but doesn't pause in his task. "Are you sure?" While Jaskier's hole has softened and accepts Geralt's fingers with ease, it still looks small. He teases in a fourth finger and is pleased to find that Jaskier accepts it with relative ease.

Jaskier lifts his head from the pillow to glare at the Witcher. "I think I know my own body, thanks. Now, get in me please." His head drops back to the bed.

Well. In that case. Geralt pulls his fingers from the honest work they'd been doing and reaches for the bottle of oil again, using more of it to coat his cock before stoppering it again. He uses the little bit left on his fingertips to slide them into Jaskier one more time before lining himself up to the bard.

He pauses before pushing in, looking up at the bard to make sure he still wants this. The answer he gets comes in the form of Jaskier wrapping his legs around his hips and jerking him closer so that he can wrap his arms around Geralt's shoulders. "Geralt, dear heart, could you please fuck me some time this century?"

Geralt never has been one to deny someone a heartfelt request and Jaskier seems rather set upon this course of action. He braces one hand on the bed by the bard's head and uses the other to steady himself as he pushes into Jaskier's body.

He stops just after the head of his prick pops in, watching Jaskier's face intently for any sign of discomfort. Finding none- and with the bard's heels digging into his buttocks as encouragement- he sinks in deeper, reveling in the lush heat that encompasses him inch by inch. 

He stops when his hips are pressed tightly against the bard's ass, pubic hair brushing along his cleft. Jaskier is panting heavily, face flushed, and gripping Geralt's arm tightly. "Hoo, you're big. Give me a moment." He sounds rather pleased about it.

Geralt would give him all the moments. He'd stay here, pressed snugly into his bard, forever if he could. As it is, the need for friction takes over and after a short nod from Jaskier, he pulls out and pushes back in slowly. He thrusts this way several times, watching as Jaskier's face contorts with pleasure. He has to bite his lip to keep from coming right then and there.

But the moans he wants aren't there. He pauses for a moment and shifts, changing the angle of his thrusts and consequently bringing more of the bard's body into contact with his own.

Jaskier _purrs_. Geralt has never heard anything like it. He's determined to hear it again. He takes one of Jaskier's hands from his shoulder and laces their fingers together, pressing the bard's hand back into the mattress and gripping tightly. Jaskier squeezes back.

They pant into each other's mouths in a pale imitation of kissing. Geralt licks his way into Jaskier's mouth, wanting to taste more of him. He breaks away after a moment to let the other man breathe and buries his face in the space between Jaskier's neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply.

"Are you scenting me," Jaskier pants.

"Mm." More like he's reveling in it. If he could, Geralt would wrap Jaskier's scent around him like a blanket and wear it forever. He smells of love, and lust, and _home_. He never wants to leave it.

Eventually, the lust takes over. "I'm close," he mutters.

"Me too," Jaskier pants back.

Geralt pulls back a little to look at his face, taking in his wide eyes and the flush that spreads down his throat. "Can you come like this?"

Jaskier nods. "Go faster?"

"I can do that," Geralt says, grinning down at him. He grasps one of Jaskier's legs along the back of his thigh and pushes it back towards the bard's body, giving himself more room to thrust and allowing him to get deeper. He picks up the pace gradually until the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin fills the room.

He's hitting the spot in Jaskier on every thrust now, judging by the way the bard pants and moans. He keeps at it, going in and out at the same angle, pace frantic and almost punishing now.

A few hard thrusts more and he feels Jaskier coming, squeezing hard around his prick and nearly screaming with his release. Geralt groans at the increased tightness, feeling as if the bard is trying to pull him in deeper, keeping him trapped there forever.

It's that thought that does it for him and his hips stutter as he spills inside Jaskier's wet and willing warmth, groaning.

He pulls out carefully and settles down on his back, gathering the bard to him. Jaskier rests his head on his shoulder, snuggling into him. He runs his hand along the bard's side while Jaskier plays with the hair on his chest, fingers tracing over the scars he finds there.

"Good?" He asks, tracing his fingers down Jaskier's side to the curve of his buttocks and then lightly trailing a fingertip down over the cleft of his arse before delving between them. He traces his fingers over the area where he's still open and Geralt's spend is leaking out of him.

"Mhm. You?" He shifts a little as Geralt eases a finger into him, feeling the swollen heat of him from where Geralt had been. It makes something hot and possessive roll through his body and he can already feel his prick twitch again in interest.

"Yeah," he draws lazily before removing his finger.

Jaskier nuzzles closer and Geralt presses a kiss to the top of his head. "Give me an hour or so and I can probably go again, if you want."

Geralt does want. He wants very much and with such ferocity that all he can do is squeeze the bard to him tighter and press another kiss to the crown of his head. "I love you," he murmurs into the chestnut hair.

"I love you, too," Jaskier replies happily.

Geralt relaxes back into the bed and let's Jaskier doze for a while. It's late afternoon and there are chores that need done, but there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

Besides, Jaskier has promised him a round two in the near future and he intends to hold the bard to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, finishing a fic for the first time in ten years is a great motivator to do another. Maybe eventually I'll finish the multi-chapter one I've been working on for the past few months...
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!


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